


If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?

by BlossomsintheMist



Series: Steve/Tony Kinktober 2017 [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Tony, Bottom Tony Stark, Dom Steve, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Kissing, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, Kinky Themes, Kissing, M/M, Manhandling, Neck Kissing, Non-Explicit Kink, Sexual Content, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sub Tony, Sub Tony Stark, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: Steve sighed.  “See?” he said, and his thumb rubbed gently against Tony’s belly and Tony had to struggle not to just melt all over again. “I should’ve known you’d be touchy about it.  When I was a little guy I probably would have socked myself in my own mouth by now.”Written for Day Six of Kinktober: Size Difference.





	If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly after the Avengers movie, assuming Steve and Tony got together sometime around then, and thus sort of seriously messing with MCU canon as we know it, but whatever, go with it; I went for MCU because of the size difference. This is a bit different than my other kinktober fics so far, more on the sweet (and just a little bit angsty) side, and more talking than sex. Maybe more romance than erotica? I don’t know. Still kinky, though.

“You know, Tony,” Steve said.  His breath feathered warm over Tony’s collarbone, against his shoulder, and Tony found himself closing his eyes to savor it, arching up against that soft, warm mouth, despite himself, pushing his shoulders back against the wall in his workshop.  Steve closed his mouth, pressed a gentle kiss against Tony’s shoulder, then trailed soft, dragging kisses up over Tony’s shoulder, his neck.

“H-hey, careful there, slugger,” Tony said, breathless, “don’t leave any marks on the merchandise, I need to—to be seen in public with that neck.”

“Yeah, all right,” Steve said, with a bit of a laugh, and pulled off his gloves, tossed them after Tony’s shirt, then slid his hands up and down along Tony’s bare sides, a warm, easy slide of his firm palms along Tony’s skin.  Tony felt very aware of how Steve was touching him, how he was gently holding him against the wall, hands falling to Tony’s hips, not pushing him, not doing anything but standing there, hands gently closed around Tony’s hips, but still—he was so big, so tall, so damn _broad_ , that it was like he was looming over him, warmth radiating out of Steve’s big body into his, over his, still dressed in his uniform, in his boots, just minus the helmet and the gloves, now, but still so warm.

“Wh-what?” Tony stuttered after another moment of Steve rubbing his sides, stroking up and down, and _making love to_ his neck, making him shiver, melt, tilt his head back and arch up into it.  It had been a long, long time since anyone had made him feel this—this meltingly soft, this warm and dizzy and weak in the knees, just with a few neck kisses and warm hands on Tony’s sides.

It had been a long time since he’d let someone get his shirt off this easily, since … since Pepper, to be honest, and now here he was, standing here under Steve in just the loose ratty old knit drawstring pants he’d been wearing when he came down here to work out a few ideas for his armor and his boxers, bare feet and everything, and it felt so—so obviously needy, so pathetic, like he seemed totally desperate, sex-deprived or something, the way his dick was tenting his pants, hard and needy just from Steve’s mouth on his neck, Steve’s hands touching him so gently, the arc reactor throwing its dim blue light all over the dark room.  Tony’s breaths felt unsteady.

“Hmm?” Steve asked, and his mouth slid wet and warm and so, so unbelievably soft, up over Tony’s neck, to nuzzle gently, so damn gently, at the hinge of Tony’s jaw.  Steve was so big, so strong, such a—a force of nature in a fight, but his mouth was so gentle on Tony’s neck, his hands so soft on Tony’s sides, palms against his belly, and Tony didn’t know why it was making his cock ache and jump, hard in his boxers, would never have called it, this … softness turning him on this fast, but it was making him feel hot all over, giddy and lightheaded and almost faint with desire, his fingers curling against the wall to prevent them from clinging to Steve, instead, hooking into the too-tight fabric of his uniform and curling in, not letting go, like they wanted to.

“You—you were going to say something,” he managed to stammer, and it came out all breathy, husky, groaning.

“Mmm,” Steve said. His hands slid up over Tony’s chest, skimmed over Tony’s nipples, and suddenly Tony felt incredibly aware of them, the heat of them under Steve’s palms, under his thumbs, as Steve circled his thumb gently against the skin of the areola, and, whoa, Tony had never been sensitive there, was even less so after the arc reactor had messed up his chest, what was going on?  “Are you sensitive in your nipples, Tony?” Steve murmured, lips trailing against Tony’s cheek, along his beard, his smooth skin scratching along Tony’s short facial hair and making him shiver, his thumb still circling against that sensitive ring of flesh around Tony’s nipple that suddenly felt far more sensitive than it ever had before.

“Uh, no,” Tony said, even though they were perking up under Steve’s thumbs, hardening under the shivering sensations Steve’s touch was sending tingling through his entire body from each slow circle of his thumbs, “no.  Sorry, b-big guy.  Not—not really, not sensitive there, no.”

“That’s a shame,” Steve said, smiling a little as he rubbed his cheek along Tony’s, turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Tony’s mouth.  “You have such pretty nipples.”

“I … no, first of all, I don’t,” Tony said, and wanted to blurt out _you do, though, they’re so cute and soft and pink and I just want to put my mouth on them and bite down and do you like to have them bitten until they’re throbbing, Steve, cupcake, because I’d really like to_ —but he swallowed, pushed it back.  “Second, was, uh, uh, was that really what you were going to say?”  Steve’s hands felt so big, so warm, on his chest.  Tony could feel his heart pounding under his touch.

“I can’t be curious about your nipples now?” Steve murmured, squeezing gently at both Tony’s nipples with his fingers and thumbs, until Tony groaned, let his head sag back against the wall.  “Jeez, Tony, how am I going to find out what your good spots are if I can’t even ask?”

“That’s not what I said,” Tony said, and made a big show of rolling his eyes at the ceiling, even as Steve was making his breath come unsteadily, short, aching in his throat. “And you know, wise guy, my, my dick’s always a good bet.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said, breath soft on Tony’s neck, and Tony could feel him grinning.  He smoothed his thumbs over Tony’s nipples again, making Tony shiver again as the sensation went through him (seriously, what was going on, was Steve’s touch just magic or something, making every place on Tony’s body he touched impossibly sensitive compared to what it had been before?), then slid his hands down over Tony’s sides again.  “But you’re right, actually.”  He trailed a tongue, slow and wet and lingering, down along Tony’s neck, to his shoulder, sucked on the point where his shoulder met his collarbone, and Tony gasped, felt his eyes rolling back in his head, and couldn’t believe how—how incredible just that, Steve’s tongue on his skin, actually felt.  How had he even survived sex with Steve the first couple of times without coming in his pants like a teenager five seconds into it?  Tony wasn’t even sure now.

“Right?” Tony asked, and it came out as a full on moan, yeah, he couldn’t help it anymore. “Right about … about … .”

Steve trailed his mouth along Tony’s collarbone, tipped it up and started to suck on the soft place at the base of his throat.  “What I was going to say,” he murmured, and Tony groaned as it vibrated against his skin, through his chest, in his throat, in the arc reactor, all the way back to his damn spine.  “Tony, you can put your hands on me.  I’d like it if you did.”

“That’s not playing fair,” Tony mumbled, because saying Steve would like it, in that sweet, straightforward, honest tone, what was he supposed to do with that, but he did lift his hands, let the backs of them rest against Steve’s chest, just for a moment, before he pushed them up, slid them up and turned them over to curl around Steve’s neck, slid them up into his hair.

Steve’s grin was a dim shadow in the low light of Tony’s workshop, but it felt bright for all that, like a bright light, like sunshine shining on Tony’s skin.  “Never said I was playing fair, did I?” he asked, and leaned down, taking Tony’s hands in both of his as he did, and pressing a kiss into Tony’s mouth.

His kiss was slow, soft, thorough.  His tongue pushed into Tony’s mouth, sweetly, and Tony just moaned, couldn’t help it, as Steve’s weight pushed him into the wall, his warmth blanketing him so entirely. He felt so warm; he was so big, and his tongue was gentle in Tony’s mouth, sweet and sensual and thorough, and by the time he pulled back, Tony was gasping, gasping and even dizzier than before.

“But,” he managed to gasp out, “but, but you should play fair.  Cap.  Apple pie, and all that.  The American way.”

“If I was playing fair, I wouldn’t exactly be putting the moves on my sweetheart when he’s all sleepy and tired out like this in his pyjamas and his bare feet, catch him down here and back him up against the wall and,” Steve nuzzled in against his neck, until Tony tilted his chin up to give him room, pressed soft, wet kisses against his throat, under his jaw, “get his shirt off,” his hands slid down over Tony’s arms, “would I?”

Tony laughed, even though it was still breathless and came out a little moany, still, as Steve pulled away, grinning at him.  His lips looked a little wet, a little swollen, and Tony reached up to touch them with one hand, rubbed the back of his fingers over them, hardly able to believe that Steve was letting him touch him like this.  “You can put the moves on me anytime,” he said, still laughing.

Steve grabbed his hand, held his fingers still and pressed a kiss to the back of them, and Tony felt himself go warm, a weird lump form in the back his throat that he had to swallow against—then winked at him.  “And in the war, the American way didn’t always mean playing fair,” he said, and captured Tony’s hand in his, pushed it back against the wall over Tony’s head, controlling him so easily and pinning him down with such casual strength that Tony’s breath caught in his throat.  Steve would be a little scary, if he ever wanted to hurt you, he found himself thinking, brain wildly calculating the force Steve was actually exerting on his wrist, how much more that body could probably produce, the mass of him versus Tony, when Steve’s other hand came up, stroked gently along Tony’s neck, along his pulse, before it curved there gently, covering it, and Steve leaned in to kiss him again, and all Tony could think about his warmth, his firm, solid strength, and how damn _gentle_ Steve’s lips were on his.

“Mmm,” Tony mumbled when he pulled away.  “Where’d you learn to kiss like that, huh?”

“Where d’you think?” Steve laughed, and kissed Tony’s chin, against his beard.  He still hadn’t let go of his wrist.  Tony could feel the wall behind it, scratchy against his skin, even though Steve was holding him gently.  “From you.”

That made Tony feel—feel warm, and soft, and his chest felt all tight, and his face kind of—and oh, damn, this was bad, he had to swallow against something thick in his throat and everything, and he was probably showing it all over his face.  “C’mon,” Tony said, quickly, desperately, trying to play it off, “don’t leave me hanging now.  What were you going to say?”

Steve actually looked a little sheepish, ran his hand gently up and down Tony’s other biceps, where Tony’s hand was still curled in his hair.  “I don’t know if you’re really going to like it,” he said.  “Maybe it was a stupid thing to say.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him.  “Well now you have to tell me,” he said, and tugged lightly at Steve’s hair.  “C’mon, apple pie, spill.”

Steve looked at him warily. “Do you promise not to get mad at me?” he asked.  “It was a hard mission, and I spent the whole time thinking about you, Tony, about kissing you, and holding you again, I . . . I don’t want to ruin it now.”

God.  How was anyone that—that fucking _devastatingly_ honest?  It wasn’t just that Steve just _said_ things like that, it was how earnestly, completely sincere, sincere and just a little bit sheepish, a little embarrassed, he looked when he said it, that made it so completely fucking affecting.  Something in Tony’s chest twinged, probably his poor broken-down heart, even as it felt warm inside his chest, behind his sternum and his ribs, and Tony had to swallow again, and again, and hell, he felt warm even down to his bare toes where they curled against the concrete floor.

“Of course I don’t promise not to get mad,” he said, but he softened it with a smile.  “I don’t know what it is yet.  But I do promise to take your very, very good qualities into account, okay, sport?”

Steve sighed, his face falling a bit, but then it softened into a smile.  “Should have known you’d never buy a pig in a poke,” he said, and rubbed his fingers gently along Tony’s arm, skimming softly over his elbow to slide up his forearm and stroke there softly.

“Well,” Tony pointed out, and his voice came out soft, softer and lower than he’d meant it to, and more tender, as he looked up into Steve’s face.  “That would be bad for business.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, and turned his head, capturing Tony’s hand in his and bringing it up so that he could press a kiss against the heel of the palm.  Tony couldn’t help it; he felt something inside him twist and melt, softening helplessly, and he could only stare (probably in an embarrassingly, stupidly lovestruck way) up at Steve, even as Steve brought his hand down, skimmed it down Tony’s side, over the slight curve to his waist.  “It’s just,” Steve said, and he still sounded sheepish about it, “seeing you like this, in your … I mean, in your bare feet and all.  It just made me think about how you actually are kinda small.”

Tony felt his face go hot, like all the blood in his body was rushing from his dick to his face. “Hey,” he said, and tried to pull away from Steve, wrench his hand out of Steve’s grip, instinctively, really, but Steve wouldn’t budge.  “Only when compared to someone—someone ridiculously huge, like a super-soldier or a, a fucking Norse god!”

Tony just kind of ended up tugging helplessly against that obnoxiously firm hold, before Steve caught his other shoulder and said, “Hey,” gently, and Tony realized he was just being stupid and subsided, breathing huffily.  “I don’t mean it as a bad thing,” Steve said, and there was the earnestness again.  “I know that, of all people, I know that.  You’re a fighter, Tony, a scrapper, you think I don’t know one when I see one?”

Okay, well, that—was kind of flattering, to have Steve compare Tony to _himself_ that way.  But—but still, it was the principle of the thing.  He tried to glare up at Steve, but he had a feeling it didn’t come off with all that much conviction.

Steve sighed.  “See?” he said, and his thumb rubbed gently against Tony’s belly and Tony had to struggle not to just melt all over again. “I should’ve known you’d be touchy about it.  When I was a little guy I probably would have socked myself in my own mouth by now.”

Tony smiled at that, couldn’t help it, and reached up with his free hand to run his thumb over Steve’s mouth.  “Well, I’m not going to do that,” he said.  “Way too sweet a mouth to want to give that a try.”

Steve smiled at that, pressed a kiss to Tony’s thumb, because he was fucking trying to melt Tony into a little puddle of pathetic emotions right there on the floor, he had to be.  “So,” he said, smiling with that little light in his eyes that made Tony want to forgive him anything, pre-emptively, pretty much forever, “does that mean you forgive me for bringing it up?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, uncomfortably, but mostly because his insides still felt soft and melted and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it, since he was pretty sure he should be pissed, or at least still feel a little offended, “why the hell did you bring it up in the first place?”

“Because I wanted to shove my foot in my mouth,” Steve said, with a little grin, and ran a hand back through his own hair, darker than gold in the dim light of Tony’s workshop and still tousled from his cowl and helmet, “why else would I have done it?  It’s a tradition with me, y’see.”

“Is it,” Tony mumbled.

“Yeah, with you I feel like I’ve done it kind of a lot already, haven’t I?” Steve said, still grinning. “And before you, let’s just say it was a real habit, and it wasn’t pretty.” He smiled, ran his hand up over Tony’s belly, down along his side again, and Tony shivered.

“You do fine,” he said, and it came out all soft and low.  “I wouldn’t—wouldn’t say that, no.”

“You’re being generous, I think,” Steve said, and Tony thought his cheeks might be a little pink, “but I’m not going to say no.”

Tony smiled a little. “C’mon, Steve, why’d you really mention it?” he murmured, sliding his hand back over Steve’s neck again, to the back of his head.

Steve shrugged, and his flush deepened until Tony was sure it was there, rosily dark over his cheeks. “I guess because I kind of like it,” he said.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I’m not your best girl, Rogers,” he said.

“Sure, I know that,” Steve said, and he sounded so honestly stung that Tony had to smile, ran the backs of his fingers along Steve’s jaw.

“Okay, so you’re not imagining me with boobs,” Tony said, “which I’m sure would be fantastic, by the way, if I had them—” Steve laughed, at that, smiling again, and Tony said “—so, uh, uh, why?”  Being smaller than a lot of men had been—a headache for him, for a long time. Always feeling short in rooms of investors, facing the board, surrounded by the military, until he learned to make sure he threw his shoulders back and acted himself into feeling, into talking, into moving twice as tall.  A lot of women didn’t like men shorter than they were, would look at him like they were disappointed when they saw him in his stocking feet.  Never being able to look down his nose at anyone, which was a huge burden in his life, okay.  He’d had to learn how to compensate, but still.  Sometimes he wished he could just tower over someone and give that person that fucking _look_ so many people had tried on him.  It had never worked on him, mind you, but he’d have liked to be able to return the favor at least once.

Steve looked uncertain, flushing a little darker.  “I—uh, well, hell, I don’t really know, Tony,” he said.  “I’m not sure if I can put it into words.  It’s just, you’re . . . so strong, and so—so impressive, so larger-than-life, so gorgeous and sophisticated and, and, I don’t know, you radiate charisma like a, a lightbulb, and then I see you like this, stripped down, and you let me touch you, and—I dunno.  I would’ve been smaller than you, before, and you’re so muscular and fit and beautiful—” his hands slid down over Tony’s biceps on both sides, and wasn’t that a trip, Jesus, Tony had to swallow, hard, Steve was calling him _beautiful_ , “but now you’re smaller than me, and I can, well, I can cover you with my body and touch you all over and … .”  He shrugged, looking helpless, shamefaced, at Tony, like he had just run out of words and what can you do?

“So it’s a toppy thing, is that what you’re saying?” Tony asked, honestly curious, and trying not to be too ridiculously pleased by those ridiculous compliments.  He pushed his hips up against Steve and rubbed his still very interested dick against Steve’s pelvis, even though he had to rock up onto the balls of his feet a little to do it, bringing his other hand up to curl through Steve’s hair, too. 

Steve sucked in his breath, and his other hand came down, tightened on Tony’s shoulder, his flush going darker as his pupils dilated, and he licked his bottom lip.  Tony couldn’t feel if he was hard through the protective plate in his armored suit and the cup he was no doubt wearing under it, but he was clearly aroused, which was a heady rush, all through Tony’s body, every time he saw Steve get flushed and sweaty and turned on like that, because of _him_.

“Toppy,” Steve said, a question in his voice, and then, “oh, like the, the dominance and submission thing.” 

“Yeah, like that, tiger,” Tony purred, because oh yeah, he knew Steve was into it.  He could just tell.  Top or bottom he hadn’t really nailed down for Steve yet, but he could tell he was kinky as hell; he’d had sex with him enough for that by now, though they’d have to talk about it a little bit more before he was willing to actually play.

“I, um, I don’t know,” Steve said.  “But I do know one other thing I like about it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony asked. “What’s that?”

“It makes it a lot easier to do—” Steve slid his hands down Tony’s sides, over his hips, “—this,” he said, and hoisted Tony up easily, so easily, into his arms, like Tony weighed literally nothing at all, so that Tony yelped as he was unceremoniously lifted, Steve’s hands under his ass right where his ass met his thighs, and wrapped his legs instinctively around Steve’s waist to steady himself.

“H-holy shit,” he stammered, feeling his dick throb, betraying him, against Steve’s belly, because God, why was that hot, he probably shouldn’t be that turned on by that, he really shouldn’t, “how do you even—how do you even _do_ that—”

“You’re a good bit smaller’n’me,” Steve said, grinning, leaning in and letting their noses rub together, “so, y’know, leverage.”

Tony felt himself smile, despite his throbbing, needy erection, despite the unfamiliar position, the feeling of being held up against Steve’s strong arms, felt the smile go soft on his face.  “You’re ridiculous,” he said, and it came out fond, “God, I can’t believe this.  That is insanely hot, for some reason, you know that?”

“Oh, good,” Steve said, and sounded honestly relieved.  “You don’t mind it?”

Tony grinned.  “What, you have a kink for manhandling me a little, Cap?  I had no idea.”  He ground himself up against Steve then, biting the inside of his own lip at how good it felt to push his cock up against Steve’s armored belly through the fabric of his boxers and loose pants, and Steve groaned like Tony had put a hand on his cock.  “You’ve been holding out on me, I think,” Tony murmured, letting his voice drop low.

“I—I don’t know,” Steve said, flushing, “maybe?  I was just worried you wouldn’t like it.”

“No, no,” Tony assured him, “how strong you are?  It’s a turn-on, for sure, champ, don’t worry about that.”

“Oh, good,” Steve said, and smiled again.  “So, can I manhandle you a little, then?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said, unable to resist smiling back in the face of that smile, “I guess we could do that, depends on what you want to do, but yeah, I’d go for that, sure.”

Steve just grinned, pressed kisses down over the side of Tony’s neck, down over his chest, still smiling.  “I miss being able to touch you in this position, though,” he said, and shifted, so that Tony’s back pressed up against the wall, his hands flexing on Tony’s thighs. They felt so warm, so … big through the thin material of his pants, where his boxers had ridden up.

“More for me,” Tony said, stroking his thumb over the tiny bit of Steve’s throat that was revealed by his uniform, until Steve sighed and shuddered, pushed up into it.  “I’m starting to feel underdressed, by the way.” Not exactly true—he’d been feeling underdressed from the beginning—but who said he couldn’t do gentle hints, huh?

“Yeah, you are kind of dressed down, huh?” Steve murmured, pressing wet, slow kisses over Tony’s shoulder. “I like you like this.”

“You really are a top,” Tony said, shivering under his mouth, and smiled, sighing at how good it felt.

“I don’t know about that,” Steve said, his hands working, kneading at Tony’s thighs now, “but I do like to see you a little, I don’t know, less put together?  Sometimes.”

“Hmm,” Tony said, and tilted his head down just a little bit, cupping his hands on both sides of Steve’s face, gave him a kiss.  “Are you going to take me apart, then, slugger?”

“Mmm, well,” Steve said, and then sucked on Tony’s bottom lip, dragging it gently between his teeth, until it was tender and stung just a little, beautifully, perfectly, then slid his tongue into Tony’s mouth, and Tony guessed that was his answer, because damn if he didn’t already feel taken apart.

“We need to start getting you out of this,” he muttered, once Steve pulled away and he had his breath back, could do anything other than leaning his head back against the wall and gasping as Steve covered his throat with slow, wet, shivery kisses, and tugged at his uniform.  “It’s … it’s, it’s only fair.”

“And you know I’m all about fairness,” Steve mumbled against his skin, a low rumble that started a shivering tremor sweeping through Tony’s entire body.  “Here, can you hold on with your knees?”

“Sure,” Tony said, a little nonplussed, and wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders, pressed his knees tight into Steve’s sides, centering himself with his legs against Steve’s body, against the wall, even as Steve let go of him, slid his hands down, under Tony’s ass, and he realized he was struggling with the fastenings of his uniform. “I need to design you something that unfastens easier,” Tony mumbled in his ear.  “What about if you’re on a mission and you need to pee?  Don’t want to hold it in; it’s unhealthy, and besides, then one lucky punch to the good old bladder and you’re pissing your pants, can’t have that happen to Captain America—”

Steve muffled a snort of laughter in Tony’s shoulder.  “I’m pretty good at holding it,” he said, “don’t worry about me.”

“Well, then, what about _damn, we just almost died, fuck me now, I need you_ sex,” Tony asked, using his position to press kisses into Steve’s neck, now, up behind his ear, breathing in the scent of clean sweat that clung to his skin, the smell of his body.  “Because I feel like I want to have a lot of that, you know, in the future.”

“I like the sound of that,” Steve breathed against Tony’s neck, still pulling at the fastenings of his clothes, “except the part where you almost die.  Can we skip that part?”

“It’s not my favorite part either, champ, but I can’t make any promises,” Tony said, sliding his hands through Steve’s hair, gently, an apology for not being reassuring, the only one he could really give.

“Well,” Steve said, his voice soft, low, a little thick, “try.”  Tony swallowed, tilted his head back against the wall and nodded, trying to clear his eyes of prickles and swallow the lump in his throat, and then he heard Steve drop something (oh, his cup, duh) on the floor, and make a sound of triumph.  Steve’s hand was on his thigh a moment later, sliding, stroking, warm through his thin pants and damn, his hands were so big, and so, so warm, like he radiated heat. “I’m not a fan of seeing you get hurt,” Steve murmured, running his hand up and down Tony’s thigh in a way that made him feel like he was going liquid all through, and that wasn’t fair; Steve was going to make him drop himself on his ass right in front of him if he kept this up, “and we can have desperate sex after a fight without that part, right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Tony said, distracted.  He could hear something, slick and wet, skin on skin.  “Um, do you have your hand on your dick?”

Steve laughed, hid another smile against Tony’s shoulder, and that made Tony smile, too, dig his hands into his hair and tilt his head back and just … smile, because Steve was there and laughing into his skin and his hand was on his own dick, and it was just, Steve was sweet and vibrant and wonderful and manhandling the hell out of him, and life was good.  Surprisingly so, in this one moment anyway, and he was sleepy enough that his brain wasn’t immediately suggesting all the million and a half ways that could crash and explode around him in the next fifteen seconds, for once.

“Yeah,” Steve said, his breathing a little ragged. “Should know better than to try to get one over on a genius.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Tony mumbled.  “But are you ever going to—because I’m holding myself up here, you know, still, pretty much completely, and—”

“I know,” Steve said, and oh, wow, there was so much desire in his voice, low and husky and—and sex-roughened, that was, that was incredible, to hear Steve sound like that over _him_.  Steve’s hand came up, rubbed at Tony’s thigh.  “With your legs around my waist, Tony, damn, I love your legs. You have such thick, strong thighs.”

“Most people don’t think having thick thighs is a good thing, big boy,” Tony said, laughing a little, “you ever heard the term ‘thigh gap’?”

“What?” Steve said, and God, wow, he sounded a little dazed, glazed, like he was overcome with desire, and that was—that was—  “Your thighs are one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, Tony.”

“You are so biased,” Tony said, laughing, but there was something uncurling in his chest, soft and warm, all the same.  “You need to do a Google search, type in ‘Beyonce,” that’s B-e-y-o-n—”

“She is a beautiful woman,” Steve said, “but you’re my fella, Tony Stark, and your thighs are the ones I can’t get enough of touching.”

“Am I,” Tony mumbled, not really able to listen to himself and say it at the same time, “am I your, your—”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said, and now his hand dropped down, curved around Tony’s ass, sturdy, steady underneath it, took his weight, and he leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Tony’s mouth, to his jaw.  “Never doubt it, Tony.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m glad you came back okay,” he said, low, almost under his breath.  “I didn’t expect you for another day, and—and I didn’t expect this, either.” _I didn’t expect you to come find me,_ he thought, _I didn’t expect you to be this desperate to see me, who in my goddamn life has ever been this desperate to see me, just for the hell of it, not because of some—some crisis,_ and he knew it couldn’t last, it wasn’t going to last, he was new and shiny to Steve right now and that was it, the luster would wear off eventually, but it—it felt good.  Right now, it felt good, and he wanted to remember how this felt. Even when it hurt, later.  His hands slid through Steve’s hair, gently, stroking, caressing.

“Well, Tony,” Steve said, against his lips, and Tony could feel him smiling, again.  “You are my best guy.”

Tony swatted at him, laughing now, distracted.  “God, Steve, seriously?” he said to cover the warm tight feeling in his chest.

“Shh,” Steve murmured, and a moment later, his fingers were in Tony’s mouth, slick and dripping with his own precome, and Tony moaned around them, tasted the sweetish musky flavor spreading across his tongue, and closed his mouth to suck on them willingly, savoring it.  Steve’s fingers felt so big in Tony’s mouth, so, so damn big.  “You’re thinking,” Steve said, and bit lightly on Tony’s ear, so lightly it seemed to shiver through his entire body, go straight to his dick.  “You have the look on your face that means you’re thinking about something I’m not going to like.  Well, I’m going to need you to quit it.  You, me, Tony, right now.  Bring that big genius brain back to earth.  Okay?”

Tony nodded around his fingers, curled his tongue around the tips of them, against the nails, in a way he knew went straight to Steve’s cock, and was rewarded with a groan, a heavy gust of breath as Steve’s forehead came down for a second, rested against his cheek.  Tony smiled around Steve’s fingers, and Steve palmed his ass, squeezed in retaliation.

“That’s more like it,” he said, and nosed in against Tony’s jaw, his cheek, in a gentle kiss to the edge of his beard.

Tony just sucked on Steve’s fingertips, closed his eyes, and let himself feel small in Steve’s grip. It was okay, he thought idly, just for tonight; Steve would take care of him.


End file.
